A Raydor Holiday
by the.nerd.voice
Summary: Sharon Raydor's children and estranged husband flock to her condo for the holidays. She wants to make things perfect for Rusty, but can they be if things aren't so perfect with anyone else? Warning, some abuse talk. Prompt by FearlessnessXO on Tumblr. ((Look for the sequel, Raydor Family Crisis.))
1. Chapter 1

Just like every year Sharon Raydor nurses her glass of Moscato wine and examines the frozen, naked turkey in front of her. She never knows why she does this. It would be much easier just to buy one. This year was different though. It is Rusty's first Christmas and she wants it to count for him. Picking up the paper provided with the turkey on how to prepare it, she sets the glass down and bites the corner of her lip.

Rusty smiles at the decorations as he enters from his bedroom, "You know, you really didn't have to get me a stocking...or put my name on it." He laughs a little, going to the kitchen, "What are you doing?"

"You wouldn't happen to know how to cook a turkey, would you?" She glances to him, a nervous expression covering her face.

"Not off hand, but I'm sure it's not hard to figure out. I know it takes a long time." He nods, moving closer to it and slapping a hand against it, "It's still frozen."

"I just removed it from the freezer ten minutes ago."

"When are people supposed to get here?" Rusty raises an eyebrow.

"It's only my children...and maybe Jack. I told him he was more than welcome. I hate when he has no place to go for the holidays." Sharon nods, picking up her glass to take another sip before placing it back down, offering him the paper in her hand, "Here, see if you can make any sense of this."

"When are people showing up?" He asks again.

She shrugs, "Could be a couple hours, could be ten minutes. It always varies with this family." She smirks, "You are the fortunate one. No need to travel. You are already here. While attempting to work out the best way to cook a frozen turkey-"

"You should have soaked it in brine overnight to thaw it. This isn't going to be ready." Rusty shakes his head.

"Well, we can do that. This isn't a one day thing, Rusty. Why do you think I went out of my way to see if there were holes in the inflatable mattresses?"

"Because your kids like to drink and they may need to spend the night?"

She raises an eyebrow, "That's only part of it." She sighs, "I know my son will be staying over, possibly my daughter...hopefully. I haven't seen her since Easter."

"At all? You haven't talked on the phone?" He looks to her.

"Occasionally. My daughter is knee deep in her studies. Honestly, I don't ask many questions for fear she will hang up on me." Sharon smirks, watching her foster son as she takes another sip of her wine.

"Do you, um..." Rusty folds the paper up, putting it on the countertop, "Do you think they'll like me?"

"Oh honey." She shakes her head, moving to him and wrapping her arms around him, "Rusty, regardless of what my children think of you, it will not change my opinion of you. You're an intelligent and creative young man...I will always care very deeply for you. Nothing will ever change that."

"So...that's a no."

Sharon looks at him above her reading glasses, "I can't speak for my children."

Rusty nods, "I guess I can understand that." He licks his lips, "So, I'm going to look up the best way to brine a turkey and maybe it will be ready to cook by tomorrow."

She chuckles, "Thank you, Rusty." She picks her head up at the sound of the buzzer to her condo blares through the establishment like a fog horn, "Let's see who that may be." She places the glass back on the counter, adjusting her black cardigan near her neck. She glances through the peep hole and lets out an exasperated sigh before swinging opening the door, "Jack." She steps aside, a wave of her hand motions for him to enter.

The gruff tallish man steps through the doorway, a few festive gift bags hang from his fingers and a tan field jacket around his back, "Sharon, Thank you for the invitation." Jackson Raydor smirks to his estranged wife, leaning in and kissing her cheek. He picks his head up, "And you must be Rusty."

Rusty doesn't say anything, not too keen on anyone else being in the condo with exception of he and Sharon. It ruined his balance. He stands straighter, looking at the man. His gaze turns to Sharon, motioning to her husband, "You're married to that?"

Sharon smirks, closing the door and following behind the man, taking Rusty's wrist and offering a smile to Jack, "Excuse us a moment." She leans the teenager to his room, "You cannot do that."

"I can't do what? He looks like someone you'd lock your car door if they came to close. In fact, I'm not entirely sure he hasn't and you haven't." Rusty watches her.

"You can't be so rude, Rusty."

"I don't know him." He offers a reason.

"Exactly. You can't be rude to people you don't know. It leaves them with an impression that you're a...that you're a smartass." Sharon nods, whispering toward the end.

"What? Me?" Rusty feigns horror, "How could they possibly think that?"

"Funny. Now, if you want people to like you...you have to show the smallest scrap of compassion. You have to be cordial."

"Fine." He sighs, "Do you have a bucket for this stupid turkey?"

"You haven't even looked at the computer-"

He holds up his phone, smiling a little, "I think I might have this covered."

"You're welcome to whatever we have. I don't believe there is a store open-"

"Sharon, it's Christmas Eve. A lot of places are open." He nods, "I'll go and-"

"Hell with the Turkey, Rusty. I will buy something tomorrow." Sharon touches his forearm.

"Chinese food? That's like...the only thing open." Rusty smirks.

"Then it will be Chinese." She smiles, leaning in and kissing his forehead, "Now, please, remember to be respectful to these people."

"Your husband and kids."

"Yes. Respect." Sharon nods, leading him out to the living room, "Jack, could I get you something to-" She stops, realizing the man had already taken care of it, "Yes, well, good then." Sharon moves over to the sofa, sitting down next to the man she married twenty-five years before.

Jack nods, sipping his scotch, "You still kept my brand in the usual place."

"Anger does not make me throw a $300 bottle of scotch away, no." She watches him, "I thought you were going to quit."

"And pass the chance of a sip of $300 scotch?" He slowly, "I'm not stupid."

"Well, please finish by the time the children get here." She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, "And that will be the only glass you have."

"Yes, Captain." Jack salutes with his free hand, "So, your plans are to have us all stay here?"

"I bought inflatable beds and Quinn can bunk with me." Sharon nods, "If she wants to, of course."

"Of course." He nods, "I'll take the couch, boy can have the bed."

"You're going to kill your back that way."

"And I'd like to be on my son's good side for a change." Jack nods.

"Why are you on his bad side?" Rusty takes a seat in the chair behind Sharon's desk.

The older man picks his head up, taking a sip from the glass, "Just years of..." He shakes his head, almost unable to answer the question, "Living."

He furrows his brow slightly, "Okay." He draws the word out, "Your daughter."

"Same. Can sit in a room with her, she won't say a word to me. Like I'm not even in the room." Jack nods slowly.

Rusty notices his foster mother is remaining suspiciously quiet during the conversation, "Wonder where she got that from." He smirks, glancing over toward her.

Sharon rolls her eyes, leaning back into the sofa, "Jack, I can't promise anything, but I've never deterred them from having a relationship with you."

"I suppose my past indiscretions have brought this round circle."

"Like?" The teenager wasn't being a smartass, just thinking out loud. Inquisitive and what some may call nosey, he wanted to know it all.

Jack glances to the young man, "I wasn't around much when they were kids. Moved to Las Vegas. Drank a lot, gambled a lot. I've gotten better with that though."

"Gotten better too late." Rusty nods, "And I guess one out of two isn't too bad."

"Rusty!" Sharon gives him a look.

"Why are you helping this guy? He left you with your kids when they were little. His kids hate him because he left them. He left you!" The teenager shakes his head, "You can't sugar coat it. That's why your kids barely talk to either one of you. You're trying to sweep the past under the rug and pretend they're still kids and they won't remember. We always remember being hurt." Rusty shouts at the both of them, standing, "I'm going to the store, I'm going to buy a bucket for this stupid turkey."

She knew he was right, and she knew it was best to be left alone with her estranged husband, "Take $20 from my wallet. My keys are in the glass bowl by the door."

"Where they always are." The young man nods, walking away from the both of them.

Sharon sits in silence for a few minutes, flinching when the door slams behind Rusty, "Jack, I'm sorry about-"

"Kid's right. Never apologize for being right." Jack nods, setting his now empty glass on the table and leaning forward, folding his hands together, "I don't know what to do. How do I help them see how much I love them?"

She shrugs, "Honestly," Sharon pauses, shaking her head, "I don't know."

He stands, moving to the kitchen to wash his glass, "Tree looks nice, Shar."

"Thank you." Sharon smiles softly.

"Noticed some of my grandmother's ornaments."

"Yes, I thought it would be nice to put them on...I want this year to be different." She gazes at the tree, the perfect size for her small space.

"How so?" He pulls open the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water before returning to the living room.

Sharon swallows, nervous at how silly it all seems, "I just want everyone to be happy. I want Christmas to be that one time of the year that we're all happy to see one another and we can get along...and honestly mean it."

"That's particularly optimistic." Jack smirks, taking a swig from the bottle.

"Rusty has never really had a decent Christmas. Never in his life." She nods, "Never had a family that cared enough about him to actually ensure his happiness."

He sighs, "Damn."

Sharon glances to him, "So...I may have gone overboard with him this year. Our children, obviously, got their fair share, but he's sixteen...I want him to have what other kids his age have." She stands when the door's buzzer sounds.

"A gaming system, gift cards, laptop..." Jack rattles off.

She pauses, "How did you know?"

"Just a hunch." He smirks.

"You know me all too well." Sharon smirks, moving to the door and opening it, "Sammie."

"Hey, Mom." The young man walks through the doorway, body built with broad shoulders, like a football player. He wraps his thick arms around her, making her look so small.

She grips her hands onto her son, threading her fingers through his longer hair, same shade of dark brown she had when she was younger. "You should come around more."

"Yeah well." Samuel shrugs, "Been busy." He looks past her, seeing his father. He offers a nod in his direction.

Sharon lets him go, keeping a hand on his arm, "Rusty ran to the store. He should be back shortly."

The young man nods slowly, "How old is he anyway?" He begins to unzipper his goose down vest, removing it, and hanging it on the coat hook.

"Sixteen." She smiles when she answers, walking into the living room, "I want him to have a great Christmas."

"He your new son?" Sam smirks.

"Please, all I ask is that you include him." Sharon glances to the door again when she hears a knock, opening it to reveal her daughter, "Quinn. Did you and your brother ride together?" She smiles, looking the young woman up and down, something was off.

Quinn tilts her head to the side, "Yes, we travel in packs." She answers sarcastically, pulling a small travel suitcase behind her, "I hear I have a better little brother."

Sam rolls his eyes, walking to the living room and flopping onto the sofa.

Sharon nods, leaning into her daughter's ear, whispering, "Your father is here. We're going to make this nice for Rusty. Now, are you able to do that?"

"Mother, have I ever given you reason to doubt me?"

"No, I suppose you haven't. However, best behavior, please." Her mother nods, pulling her daughter in for a hug, which Quinn quickly backs away from.

"Please." Quinn looks to her mother, speaking in a whisper, "Not right now." She walks past her, pulling along her bag.

Sharon takes a mental note as she closes the door, "Yes, well-"

"Daddy." The young woman walks over to him, kissing his cheek, "So good to see you."

Jack's face lights up, so happy that his daughter is even paying him any mind, more or less welcoming of his presence, "You too, baby."

"So, where's this new little brother of mine?" Quinn turns, looking to her mother.

"He ran to the store, but should be back any moment." Sharon walks into the living room more, rubbing her thumb against her fingers.

"You mean I did all that for nothing?" The young woman sighs, "Where can I put my bag?"

"You'll be bunking with me tonight, if that's okay. We're a little on space now, but not to worry, I purchased an inflatable bed and there's the sofa." She places her hands at her waist, her fingertips almost able to touch one another.

"I can't sleep in the guest room?" Sam glances to his mother.

"That's Rusty's room now." Jack nods, emphasizing the boy's name, "We are off limits to it."

"Oh, come on. He's the youngest!"

Quinn smirks, "Well, Sammie, you and father dear could always bunk on the inflatable," She turns, taking her bags to her mother's room.

"That's the final word." Sharon waves her hand in the air for them to stop, "Best behavior."

Rusty, who with his time of staying in Sharon Raydor's condo and his former job before that, has found the ability to sneak around places and let himself into and out of doors with little to no noise, "For what?"

She swings around, "Rusty, I didn't hear you come in. That was fast."

"I didn't go far. Just to get a bucket." The young man shrugs, walking into the place more. He nods to the new man sitting on the sofa, "You Sam?"

"Yeah. You Rusty?" Samuel smirks.

"Yeah."

"Cool." He nods.

"Great, now they're talking like cavemen." Sharon mumbles to herself before walking to her bedroom, looking to see what's keeping her daughter. She stands in the doorway, folding her arms and watching the young woman.

Quinn slowly pulls on a cardigan, wincing as she attempts to put her arm through the sleeve. Bruises on her upper arm very apparent, "Fuck." She hisses, keeping very quiet. The battery operated candle flickers on top of the dresser, illuminating the room with an eerie yellow glow.

Sharon lets her arms down, moving closer to the young woman and gently touches her shoulder, "What happened?"


	2. Chapter 2

Quinn quickly turns, coming face to face with her mother, "Mom...I didn't see-"

"I asked what happened." Sharon says a little stronger. She moves away from her daughter, closing the door and turning the lamp on that rests on the side table. Sharon edges the young woman's sweater down, seeing the bruising to her upper arm, examining it.

"I fell." She answers, quickly. Probably a little too quickly.

"I do not believe that is true." She swallows, having seen this before many times, "Quinny, they are finger impressions. Who did this?"

"I will tell you later...Okay?"

"I want to know now." Sharon meets her eyes, attempting to keep tears from her own. Someone hurt her little girl and she'd kill them.

"I just might need to stay here for a little while." Quinn gently adjusts her sweater again, "Is that okay?"

"Of course." She wraps her arms around the young woman, "Of course it is."

The young woman swallows, returning her embrace. She was never particularly affectionate, especially with her family. She knew her mother could tell she was acting differently. Quinn nods, "Is Rusty here yet?"

Sharon swallows, putting her at arm's length and quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "Yes. He and your brother were having a chat in the living room."

"Oh God, Mom, please don't cry. You can cry later." She smirks, "I'm here now, he isn't. That's what matters, isn't it?"

The police captain nods, "I still couldn't protect you."

"Later. Remember? We're going to talk about this later." Quinn places her forehead against her mother's, something she's done ever since she was small when she thought her mother wasn't listening to her, "I'll tell you everything you want to know. When?"

"Later, I got it." Sharon steps over, looking at her reflection in the mirror above her dresser. She waves her hands at her eyes in an attempt to get them to stop tearing up, "Are you hungry? We can order something."

"I am actually. I am really in the mood for Chinese food...and a vegan chocolate shake. Like...together." She grins, that smile something she shares with her mother, "Sweet and sour shrimp with a chocolate shake." Quinn waves her head back and forth, "Or maybe some fried chicken."

"Are you a bottomless pit?" She adjusts her makeup before sliding on her glasses that were resting on the dresser, "How do I look?"

"Like my sister." She motions for them to leave the room, "No mention of this to Jack...or Sam."

"That's going to be hard."

"You've never told us things until you knew all the facts. Remember?" Quinn smirks, "So let's not change up your pattern."

Sharon looks to her above her glasses, "Fine." She walks past her daughter, opening the door and returning to where the others are. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Rusty shrugs, sitting in the wingback chair, "It's fine. Hungry as hell though."

"Yes, how do you all feel about Chinese food?" The matriarch of the family looks to the men, watching her daughter walk past her to the kitchen.

"All squishy inside." Sam smirks, laughing to himself.

"One conversation, please. I'd like one conversation where people actually answer a question without sarcasm." Sharon nods to her son, giving both he and Rusty a look, "Rusty, show everyone the menu. please. Get whatever you want. I mean it."

"So, if I want five hundred chicken wings-" Quinn smirks, sipping cranberry juice she was able to find.

"You would have killed two hundred and fifty chickens...and they would be delicious." Jack chuckles, rising from his seat.

Rusty grins, "I think I like it here." He laughs, doing what was requested of him.

"You would." Sharon sighs, closing her eyes a moment with frustration, "Write everything down, please, and I am not ordering five hundred chicken wings from a Chinese food store."

"Damn." Sam smirks.

Both of her children had their father's temperament, at least, when he was sober and when she first met him. His humor was what drew her to him, his ruggedly good looks didn't exactly hinder the attraction either. Next to her father, he was the smartest man she knew. Still is. Though his talents were wasted on alcohol and gambling addictions, there was still something attractive about him. The fact that he and their children were actually getting along for a change, brought warmth to her heart, and the fact that Rusty fit right in with the rest of them, made her know this was going to be great.

After ordering, the food arrives within twenty minutes after placing the call. The family sits around the dinner table, cartons spread throughout.

"Rusty's made all state with his chess team. They're really great." Sharon grins to her foster son, causing the teenager to blush.

"Awesome." Quinn smirks to him.

"So, Sammie, how are your studies?" Jack picks his head up, looking at the end of the table to his son.

Sam picks his head up, nodding quickly, "Fine." He answers simply, too simply. The young man pushes the hair from his eyes to behind his ear.

It causes Sharon's to pick her head up from her chicken and vegetables, able to tell when suspects were lying, it was even worse if you were her child. "Yes, where are you in your studies?"

He sighs, "Look...I've been working, alright. School wasn't for me." He swallows, "I know you wanted me to go to school and make something of myself, but I got a really great job in a school and I really like it."

"A school?" His mother smiles softly, "What do you do?"

"I teach physical education. You only need an associate degree to do so and since I already had that..." Sam nods, "I hope you two aren't too disappointed."

"No, honey, that's fantastic." Sharon nods, getting up from her seat, going to the fridge and retrieving the bottle of wine. She pours some in her own glass, and that of her son's. She then moves to her daughter's glass and tilts the bottle.

"No, no, I'm fine." Quinn shakes her head, "I'd like to try some of the sparkling whatever you're forcing Rusty to drink."

"It isn't that bad." Rusty shakes his head.

Sharon raises an eyebrow, looking down to her daughter, "You're turning down a glass of your favorite wine that I go out of my way to buy every year for you...for us..." Sharon sorts things in her head. She places the bottle on the table, "Quinn." The woman's face begins to soften with shock.

"Mom-" Quinn warns.

"That's what was different about you when you came to the door." She shakes her head, "Are you pregnant?"

"I'm going to excuse myself now. I'm suddenly not very hungry."

"Quinny, is this true?" Jack's face lights up, watching his only daughter.

Quinn stands up from her seat, stalking to walk toward the bedrooms. Better to say nothing rather than something one would regret.

"Quinn." Sam calls.

The young woman snaps around, glaring toward her mother, "Jesus fucking Christ, the great detective Sharon Raydor strikes again. Can anyone have a fucking secret in this family?" She turns again, retiring to the bedroom she is sharing with her mother.

Jack continues to smile, "Shar…we're going to be grandparents." The man is overjoyed and it's painfully obvious.

Sharon stands there a moment, looking to nothing in particular, "This…may not be a good thing." She slowly returns to her seat. She leans back, taking a sip of her wine.

"What? Because she's not married? Sharon, I seem to remember-"

"Not the place nor the time, Jack." She shakes her head.

Rusty bites his lip, "I can try talking to her."

"That, is a terrible idea." Sharon takes a sip from her glass, "Let her cool down."

"I'm…She has no reason to be pissed off at me." He shakes his head, "Let me try."

"It was nice knowing you." Sam nods, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth, "She likes to be alone. Let's finish dinner. Me and you can go chill."

"It is Christmas Eve." Sharon looks to her son.

"And? I didn't say we were going golfing or on a boat ride. We're just going to go hang out. We'll be back in a few hours. It will give you time with Dad and maybe some time to talk to...ya know...Quinn." He shrugs, "But, hell, what do I know."

"Kid got a point." Jack nods, always more of a charming observer, "Bet your students think you're great."

"I wouldn't know." Sam smirks

"Sure you would." He looks to his son, "How are your students?"

"Smart as hell. Smarter than me."

Sharon glances across the table as her husband and son chat. She makes eye contact with Rusty and offers him a small smile. She knew she was ruining his holiday. Hopefully the gifts she purchased for him would make up for it.

Rusty smirks, leaning over toward her, "I'm calling you Granny for now on."

She playfully scowls to him over her glasses, "How is your dinner?" She takes another sip of her wine.

He shrugs, "Fine." He smirks, "Can't say I've ever had such entertainment before...or a holiday dinner where we all sat at a table and stuff. They'd usually make me go to my room. So...this is an improvement."

Sharon leans over, gently touching his arm, "You know, we could inflate the bed, and all watch movies in the living room." She smiles.

"Mom, we haven't done that since I was in the fourth grade." Sam shakes his head.

"I don't remember ever doing that." Jack looks between his son and his wife.

"You weren't there." The young man answers simply, shrugging, "We'll do whatever you want, Mom." He nods, wanting to make the holiday pleasant for the woman as well. He knows that if she's happy, then the foster son would be happy. He's been around enough teenagers on a daily basis to know that.

"Whatever you want, Sharon." Rusty smiles to her, knowing something was off between she and her daughter and that Sharon was nervous as hell..

"Since we are all here for a few nights, possibly tomorrow?" Sharon looks around the table, smiling when she sees nods from the men at the table, "I believe it is best if I tend to Quinn."

Sam nods, "I'll clean up. Then, Rusty, we'll go?"

Rusty nods, nervously smiling.

"Good night, gentlemen. The inflatable bed is in the hallway closet." Sharon stands, going to each one and kissing them on the cheek, even Jack. She sways toward her bedroom.

Jack looks to his son, "So...would you mind if I tagged along with the two of you?"

"Uh." Sam shrugs, "I mean, you can, but I don't know what time we'll be back and I know you're kind of old and stuff." He teases.

"I got the message." The older man smirks, "So, Rusty, chess team. You play any sports?"

Rusty shakes his head, "Not really. I'm not really into other sports. I mean, baseball sometimes, but...I was never in one place long enough to join a team that ya had to pay for...or show up to things. Chess team didn't matter that much. Gave me something to do and perfect when I was alone."

Jack nods, "You could now if you wanted to. You could join an actual sports team, you know."

"I'm fine. I like chess."

Sam sighs, "Dad, let him be." He stands, collecting the plates from the table, "I played football...for a long time."

"As did I." Jack nods, "Football and baseball. Was named All State three years running."

"Please, don't get him started, Rusty."

"My high school sports career was legendary." The man says louder, smirking.

Rusty grinned, watching their banter. He's learned, mostly through his months of living with Sharon Raydor, to observe more than just speaking all the time. That one would learn more about a person or their relationship with others by noticing body movements or miniscule things said. He gets up, helping with the dishes.

Sharon looks down to her daughter, who lies curled up on her side, facing away from the door. She's unsure whether to say anything, or to touch the young woman to make her aware of her presence.

Quinn can feel her presence, able to smell her perfume, "I wasn't ready to say anything yet."

"Honey, you show up with bruises...and you're pregnant." She shakes her head, "What happened?"

"I was afraid to say anything to you." She doesn't move, unsure if she is able to say anything with just her mother, "I still don't know if I can."

"We made a deal." Sharon nods, sitting behind her daughter on the bed. Reaching a hand to her head, she begins to stroke the young woman's lively brunette auburn hair. "If you are unable to just...talk, I can ask questions."

"Fine." Quinn blinks, instantly relaxing from the touch of her mother.

"How far along are you?

"I knew that was going to be your first question." She smirks a little.

"What did you expect, Quinny?" Sharon begins to grin.

"I'm in my eighteenth week." Quinn slowly rolls onto her back, looking up at her mother.

She catches herself glancing down to her daughter's abdomen, then back to her face, "And you thought it was best not to say anything?"

"I didn't say anything to anyone except my doctor."

"That was my next question." Sharon nods, "You're receiving prenatal care?"

"Of course. I may be stubborn, but I'm not stupid." Quinn smirks.

"Sex?"

"Yes, I did have that." She laughs a little to herself before sighing, "No, every time I go, the technician can't get a good view. I do, however, know there are two of them in there."

"Two...twins?" Sharon's eyes widen, "You're having twins?"

"Looks that way. Their father has twins that run on his side." Quinn watches her mother closely as she slowly reaches a hand out to touch her daughter's abdomen finally, "Please, say something."

"I'm sorry." She pulls back, knowing her daughter to be fickle about uninvited touch.

The young woman shakes her head, "Mom, you're fine."

Sharon bites her lip, placing her hand back, "What about their father?"

"I don't want anything to do with him. I'd rather do this alone and be dirt poor instead of telling him a single thing about these children."

"Was he a boyfriend?"

Quinn nods slowly, "I've been living with him for the past few months, but...He, um..."

Sharon can feel her eyes begin to sting as they well up with tears and removes her glasses, setting them on her bedside table, "Is this boyfriend of yours the reason for the bruising?"

She sighs, "You see, if I tell you everything, you're going to want to go after him...and I don't want that."

The older woman nods slowly, "Men cannot be allowed to get away with hurting women."

"That isn't what I mean." Quinn swallows, "I left him."

"That's a start." Sharon watches her, "Now tell me something that will keep me from going to his house and bashing his head in."

"I didn't tell him about the babies right away. I was going to surprise him." She nods, "And...I know he can be sweet and he can be gentle, but...when he gets angry, he gets very angry."

"Has he hurt you before?"

Quinn licks her lips, unsure of how much she should tell her mother, "Let's just stick with-"

"He has." Sharon breathes out.

"I loved him though...I could deal and he was the father of my children, so...I could put up with it from time to time."

"No, honey, that is never okay. You are so smart and yet-"

"You put up with it with Dad for years." Quinn meets her eyes.

"No, he never once hit me. He would get overzealous when he was drunk, but that is the extent." Sharon watches the young woman, "He was never abusive. A snide comment here and there, but that was all, Quinn."

The young woman feels her own tears forming, "I just...I wanted him to love me as much as I loved him."

She closes her eyes, looking away from her daughter. Such a simple statement and yet so heartbreaking to her, "As long as I can help it, he will never come near you again and he will never lay a hand on my grandchildren."

Quinn begins to chuckle, quickly bringing a hand up to wipe a tear trickling to her temple, "Grandchildren." She covers her mother's hand when she realizes it's still resting there.

"It sounds odd to me as well." Sharon smirks, "Did you want to get changed?"

"I forgot to bring something to sleep in..." She smiles softly, "I was...kind of in a hurry."

"I see. Let me see what I can find for you." She leans down, softly kissing her daughter at her eyebrow before rising from the bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Rusty squirms in his seat, his head going back to all the other times men would drive him out to the middle of nowhere and make him do things to them. Things he didn't necessarily want to do, but had to in order to get by. The car finally pulling to a stop, his head snaps to glances at the man next to him.

"Come on." Samuel motions to the beach ahead of them. "Tell me about yourself, Rusty. How did you get to live with my mother?" He grabs a bag from the back seat before climbing out of the car, "She wasn't very forthcoming with your history."

"Neither am I." The teenager mumbles, leaving the car and following the man.

He chuckles a little, "Why?"

Rusty sighs, "Because when I tell people how I lived, they look at me differently." He glances over, still following, "And I don't really know you too much yet...I'd rather you didn't look at me like people look at me."

Sam nods slowly, "Fair enough." He sits in the sand, by the water, "When I was your age, I wasn't doing well in school. Not that I ever really did, but I always just got by." He smirks, taking the contents of the bag out.

The teenager watches closely, "Is that-"

"Wait, wait. I wasn't finished." He continues, emptying the contents of a small bag into a small glass spoon-type object, "And the doctor told my mother that I was dyslexic and had attention deficit hyperactivity disorder." He smirks.

"ADHD?" Rusty glances around for anyone else on the beach, "You're going to get caught."

"Well, when he told my mother, she reacted like he said I had cancer or some shit." Sam begins to laugh, lighting the end of the glass pipe, sucking in the contents, "She put on these dark ass sunglasses and cried all the way home. Like I couldn't tell."

"Look, this is illegal."

He shakes his head, "Less than an ounce and I am medically allowed to grow and have this on my person." He glances to the teenager, "Trust me, I know the laws."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Rusty leans forward, "Why are you telling me all of this shit?"

"Because Mom said your past was rough. I thought you should know that I really don't care what you did, as long as you're good to Mom...as long as you make her happy, which you do."

He smiles a little, "I do?"

"Yeah, man." Sam smirks, "I'm surprised she doesn't just divorce Quinn and me and just keep you as her son. Talks about you all the time. You make her proud. Unlike her college dropout son who can't read and a weird daughter who doesn't like to be touched...and is probably pregnant. Who the hell knows about all that though..."

"She talks about you too." Rusty nods, "She had a case a few months ago and the guy who was killed reminded her of you. She tried calling, but...you didn't answer."

Sam shrugs, "Whatever. I'm here now." He offers the pipe, "Want some?"

"I've never done that before." He shakes his head.

"No, I know you haven't, but you look nervous as hell." He nods, "This is why I"m not jumpy anymore. Thought you'd like something organic."

"This is what the doctor prescribed to you when you were my age?"

"Shit, no." Sam make a face, "but I started doing it and I realized it didn't make me like a zombie like my pills did. So, I stopped the pills all together. We had the most boring septic tank in the neighborhood." He smirks, "Mom didn't know. I never told her. I went back to my doctor when I got older and she wrote me a prescription. I'm a teacher because I get high."

"Don't hear that everyday." Rusty reaches over, taking the glass pipe from his hand and inhaling sharply, he coughs.

"Don't be so eager. Relax. Suck in and hold it. Let it swirl in your mouth." He watches the teenager closely, "This isn't a gateway drug like you kids are always told. You just have to be smart. Nothing will ever have the same effects as an herb."

The teenager tries again, doing as instructed. He closes his eyes, smirking slightly as it takes hold. "How do I know it's working?"

"You don't...not really. Other people notice though." Sam takes the pipe back and takes another hit, "Sometimes though, if it's a good crop, you really...It just puts you on cloud nine. I got a nipple piercing when I was high once. Didn't feel anything. Just woke up the next morning and there it was." He chuckles.

Rusty lies back in the sand, staring at the stars, "My mom left me at a zoo because her boyfriend told her to. So I lived by myself for a while...few months. I did what I had to do. Usually sexual favors." He swallows, able to feel the immense sense of relaxation wash over him as he lies there, "All kinds of men...some women, but usually men." He nods, "And I just take it...and they'd pay me money. I'd be able to get food and stuff...pay rent and pretend my mother did." He smirks, "Had a good scheme going until I saw this guy try to bury a dead body. Cops found out everything about me. I thought I was going to go to jail."

Sam tilts his head to the side, watching him, "Why'd they leave you?"

"Her boyfriend used to hit me and stuff...beat me up." He nods, "And I just took it because I knew if I didn't, he'd hit her. I couldn't have that." Rusty licks his lips, "But one day, it was really bad and he wasn't quitting, so I hit him back. I can defend myself. First day of school, I put three guys in the infirmary that started shit with me. Three...with no help."

"I'll have to take lessons from you.' He grins, "Want the last one?" He offers the pipe again.

Rusty shakes his head, "I'm good."

"Alright." Sam finishes the contents, then cleans out the pipe before placing it back into the bag. He lies in the sand as well, "I'm glad you're one of us now. You're cool...you fit in."

He shrugs, "I never feel like I fit in everywhere."

"It's like you're this kid Mom had and we didn't know about it or our memories were erased so we wouldn't remember you, but now you're back and it's like you never left."

Rusty begins to laugh, "That is the craziest shit I've ever heard."

"Charles Baudelaire was a huge pothead. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was conceived while the creators were high...that's why they eat so much fucking pizza. Marijuana is very common among artists, and since it's neither addictive nor deadly...is...you know, whatever. It's going to be completely legal soon. Like cigarettes...which are a bajillion times more deadly. Even alcohol is deadlier." Sam nods, "The only reason we, as Americans, constantly look down on it is because of smear propaganda from Harry J. Anslinger and William Randolph Hearst to make it look bad so the importance of the Bureau of Narcotics could be seen more. They drew upon the themes of racism and violence to draw national attention to the problem Anslinger wanted to create."

"What...do you just study this shit?" He raises an eyebrow, smirking.

"I like to gather all the facts before I do something...even smoke marijuana." Sam smiles, "When my kids ask me in class, I try to tell them as much truths as I know without sounding like I condone it...mostly so I don't get fired."

"You're a good teacher, Sam." He nods.

"I try to be."

Rusty continues to stare, "We've been out here a while."

Sam picks his arm up, looking to his glow in the dark watch, "Three hours."

"Hopefully Sharon fell asleep. Hopefully she was able to talk to Quinn."

He nods, "Can you believe I'm going to be an uncle, though?"

"You don't know what Quinn's issue really is though. She could just be having a bad day.' Rusty offers a smile.

"You keep telling yourself that." Sam slowly sits up, getting up.

"Help me." The teenager raises his hands up, letting the other pull him up from the ground, "Felt like I couldn't move."

"And that's how you know you're smoking good stuff." Sam smirks.

Sharon walks out of her bedroom, glancing to her husband, sitting on the sofa, "The boys back yet?"

"Nah." Jack shakes his head, "Don't know where they went either." He watches the sports channel, a running monicor of the daily scores runs across the crowded screen.

She leisurely touches his shoulder as she passes, "Want some tea or something? Hot chocolate maybe?"

"Yeah, alright." He taps the button on the remote, shutting the television off. He stands, walking into the kitchen, "Quinn say anything?"

Sharon nods slowly, "She's going to stay with me for a while."

"Doesn't she have an apartment?"

"Yes."

"Then why is she staying here?" Jack raises an eyebrow, taking a seat on a stool at the breakfast bar.

"That isn't my information to tell." Sharon shakes her head, filling a brushed silver teapot with water before placing it onto the burner of the stove, "If she wants you to know, she must be the one to tell you."

He sighs, "I just want to know if my daughter is okay."

"She will be." She offers him a small smile, "She did confirm that we're going to be grandparents."

Jack grins, "I can't believe that."

"Exactly." Sharon grins, "To twins, Jack."

"Twins?"

"Yep." She runs a hand through her hair, "I am going to start buying her diapers now, compared to a month before she's due and there just isn't enough." She folds her arms, glancing to the teapot, "Even if I have to buy a storage locker to store everything in preparation just for her."

"I'll help you out with that." Jack nods, "I don't want to miss a thing."

"Neither do I." Sharon reaches over, gently touching his hand, "She's not like she used to be."

"You mean to tell me she's changed in a year?" He turns his hand over, holding her palm in his.

"It is not unheard of." She moves closer to him, leaning her head against his, "Just let her be the one to initiate it. Maybe you should be the one to tell her your plans of a storage unit."

"They were your plans." Jack spins on the stool, holding her closely and wrapping an arm around her, "Shar-"

"She will be thrilled." Sharon smirks, hearing the keys in the front door. she walks out from the kitchen, her arms at her sides, she begins to rub her thumb over her fingers, knowing who was about to enter.

Sam opens the door, his eyes widening when he sees his mother's figure standing there, "You're awake." He smirks to her, relaxing a little. He has done this plenty of times before around her.

"I'm having tea." The smell from the herb smoked during their bonding time catches her nose, "What did you do?" She gives him the opportunity to explain and stares to her foster son as he walks behind the taller of the two.

"We went to the beach. Talked." He shrugs, "Why?"

"Rusty?" The tilts her head to the side.

Rusty's eyes widen, but he doesn't say anything. Really, he isn't able to say anything. Instantly terrified.

"Is this a joke? Please, tell me that the two of you are not as high as kites." Sharon begins to glare, "Samuel Thomas!"

"Why is this automatically my fault?" Sam hangs his vest up, adjusting the sleeves of his red plaid shirt.

"I can tell by the look on your face." Her voice is nearly at a growl, gently wrapping her arms around her foster son, "Rusty, talk to me, honey."

Rusty frowns, tears forming in his eyes, "Don't hate me." He leans into her embrace, the herb present in his bloodstream taking full control of his emotions.

"Honey, I'm not even angry with you." She glares to Sam over the boy's shoulder, "Everything is going to be okay, you just need to relax."

"Time for lights out?" The teenager's voice was small, as if he were much younger.

"For you, yes. How about you go and get your pajamas on. I'll be there in a minute.'

Rusty nods, turning slowly and stalking off toward his room.

Sharon folds her arms, "How much did he consume?"

"He only had one hit." Sam nods, "It's because it's his first time."

"I had a friend in college who was allergic." She swallows, "What if he is allergic?"

"Don't know unless you try." He shrugs, "He's fine, mom, really. Talked the entire way back when he could barely make eye contact on the way there."

"You are a teacher, Sam. What kind of example are you setting?" Sharon's voice is low and threatening.

"One that I'm allowed to set with a prescription." Sam shakes his head, "Damn, Mom, what kind of person do you take me for? You're a cop. Why would I do anything illegal?"

"For you, it is not illegal, but for Rusty...What if they do drug testing at his school?"

"I can promise you, they won't. Half those kids are getting high right on school property.."

"You don't know that." She glares.

"I'm a teacher. I notice." He nods.

Sharon continues to watch her son, slowly remembering that he said he had a prescription, a lightbulb goes off in her head, "Why do you have a prescription? Are you sick, Sammie?"

"Mom, I stopped taking my ADHD meds six months after I began taking them. I smoked instead." Sam watches her, "You couldn't even tell. Then, as I got older, I went the more...legal route for medication. I'm sorry to crush all of your preconceptions of me, but I'm betting that whatever Quinn told you was ten times worse."

"Don't drag your sister into this." She places her hands on her hips, "Why did you give it to Rusty?"

"You've barely even...That kid is scared shitless. He wants to fit in so bad and you're just making it hard for him. Bringing up his chess whatever...he was uncomfortable. You're giving him this whole...us versus them, vibe. He wants to make you proud during this and he doesn't know how to do it."

Sharon swallows, absently brushing her hand down her silk pajama top. Nodding, she walks past him.

The young man sighs, knowing he screwed up, "Mom, I-"

"It's okay." She waves her hand, but it's obvious he said something that struck her on a different level than what he wanted to, "Help your father put the bed up. I don't want any tea anymore." Her voice was quiet, filled with so much emotions, that she couldn't even look at him. Sharon lets herself into Rusty's room.

Jack raises an eyebrow, watching as his son stands there no knowing what to do, "You alright?" He gets up when the teapot begins to whistle, "I can't make hot chocolate like your mother, but I can try. Want some?"

Sam rubs his thumb and fingertips together, "I'm going to blow your bed up."

"Son, have some of this with me." He nods, "Come on."

The younger man slowly glances up to his father, "I'll put your bed up first, then we'll see."

Jack looks to his son once more and nods somberly, "Alright." He knows his children wouldn't always be willing to to do things with him. He was okay with this, but one day, maybe it will change.

Sam could hear the sadness in the man's voice, "Go ahead and make it. I just like it cooled down a little. The pump has to run for a little while anyway." He moves to the hallway closet, peeking through the doors cracked opening.

Sharon holds her foster son closely, "Everything is fine, Rusty."

"I did drugs and now you're going to call Cynthia and you aren't going to want me here anymore." Rusty has tears pouring down his cheeks, unable to really control his emotions.

"Rusty, I would never do that. You are a teenager, you must experiment with life. Yes, I would have preferred you did not partake in what you did, but you've experienced it. You can make your own decisions if it is to ever happen again."

"That's not true. You're going to-"

"Rusty, I have never lied to you. I am not about to start now." She strokes his hair, "Look at me."

Rusty slowly glances up, meeting her emerald eyes.

"I love you as much as I love my own." She offers him a smile, bringing her hand to his face to wipe his cheek with a sweep of her thumb, "Now, how about you lie down and close your eyes."

"Then you'll leave. You'll leave me alone." He shakes his head.

"I am right here. I won't go anywhere until you fall asleep, then I simply be in the next room." Sharon nods, helping him get into the bed better and pulling the sheets and comforter up to his chest. She sits next to him, propping herself up with extra pillows and placing her legs on top of his comforter, crossing them at the ankle. She begins stroking his hair gently with her nails. Sharon leans her head back, her eyes slowly closing until she finally falls asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Quinn Raydor slowly peeks through the doorway of the bedroom she was supposed to share with her mother. She opens the door, smirking that it doesn't squeak. Her mother was fanatical about that. She pads down the hallway, able to smell coffee immediately. She smirks, "That is what I need." Her voice hushed, yet deep. She rounds the corner to the kitchen, seeing her father sitting at the breakfast bar, reading a newspaper. She stops immediately.

"Morning, baby." Jack smiles, looking up from the paper, "I brewed coffee...decaffeinated, but don't tell anyone."

She tilts her head to the side, "Why decaf?" The young woman brings her arms up, folding them across her chest.

"So that you could have some." He nods, looking back to the black and off white papers in his hands.

Quinn swallows, shifting to her other foot, "Mom talk to you?"

"About?"

The young woman shakes her head, rushing to the coffee pot, "Thanks." She says quietly, pulling down a mug from the usual cabinet. She remembers all the years of her parents tumultuous relationship. Most of all, her father's constant coming and going, "Where is Mom?"

"Fell asleep in the boy's room. He and your brother came home high as hell last night." Jack nods, "Freaked the boy out." He chuckles softly, "I only seen a guy act like that once when I was in college, but that was when he dropped Acid."

Quinn raises an eyebrow, "Bet she was pissed."

"Doesn't even begin to cover it." He smirks, surprised his daughter was paying any attention to him, "How did you sleep?"

She raises her eyebrows, a smirk creeping across her face, "Really well, actually. You?"

He nods, "Damn raft bed is comfortable as hell."

"Raft bed?"

"Inflatable bed." Jack smirks, "When I was a kid, we went to camp and used to sail them. They actually work really well."

Quinn gives a throaty giggle, "Oh wait." She walks around the breakfast bar, leaning in and kissing her father on the cheek, "Merry Christmas, Dad."

The man watches his daughter, "Thank you, baby. Merry Christmas."

The young woman touches him on the arm, carrying her mug around the apartment. She remembers her black bag, containing her camera. It was large and used for her photography hobby. She sets the mug down, taking the large black camera from the bag, hanging it around her neck. Slowly sneaking into Rusty's room, she snaps a couple of pictures of her mother sleeping with her hand resting on Rusty's dirty blonde hair. She grins.

Sharon quickly snaps her head up at the sound of the camera shutter. She looks around, realizing where she fell asleep the night before. Her eyes unable to focus immediately, "Quinn, is that you?" She whispers.

"Yeah." The girl grins, "Merry Christmas."

"Same to you." She smiles a little, glancing down at the teenager next to her, "I don't know whether to wake him or let him sleep."

"Let him have the full Raydor experience. Get his ass up. I'll tell Dad to start making breakfast."

Sharon watches her daughter, "He's excited, you know."

"Rusty's going to love it." Quinn grins, "I got him gift cards, do you think he'll like just gift cards?"

"I mean your father." She covers her mouth with the back of her hand as she yawns.

The young woman stands straighter, "What about?" When she receives a look from her mother, she nods, "I like how you automatically think I'm keeping them."

Sharon stops moving, "What?"

Quinn raises an eyebrow, walking around the boy's side of the bed and taking a picture of him, "Rusty, it's Christmas. Wake up." She gently touches the teenager's shoulder, not getting much of a rise from him except for him to turn over.

"He's impossible in the morning." The older woman says quietly, "You should try getting him up for school."

She licks her lips in thought, "I'll have Dad make breakfast." She begins to walk toward the door.

Sharon stares forward a moment, attempting to figure out what exactly her daughter meant by her comment. She looks down to her foster son, "Rusty, it's Christmas morning. Santa has been here." She teases, stroking his hair with her finely manicured nails.

Rusty opens an eye, looking up to her. He doesn't say anything except watching her.

"I can make you breakfast...or Jack could." Sharon grins to him, "He can actually do that really well, believe it or not."

"Did you stay all night?" His voice is soft, nervous for the most part.

"I did, actually." She pushes a stray hair from his eyes, "I wasn't going to, but yes, I did." She adjusts her position slightly, "How are you feeling, Rusty?"

He moans softly, "It wasn't all a dream?"

"I'm afraid it was not."

He groaned, pulling a pillow over his head.

Sharon gives a throaty chuckle, leaning over him to hug him.

Quinn watches from doorway, surely she could never be the same way with a child, much less her own. Her mother was always one of her personal heros because of her patience and respect that she showered upon her children. She could barely stand for anyone to touch her unless she initiated it and children were an entirely different thing. It overwhelms her. She steps into the hallway, attempting to calm herself when she hears the buzzer at the door.

Jack sets his paper down, moving off of the kitchen stool he rests on. Without fully walking down the hallway, he notices his daughter closest to the door, "Ask your mother if we're expecting anyone else." His brow furrows.

"Was that the doorbell?" Sharon peeks her head out of Rusty's room.

"I'm taking that as a no." The older man shakes his head, walking closer to the women and past them, opening the door. He sees a young man, broad chested, dark skinned, "Yes? Could I help you?"

"Yes, is Quinn here? Maybe?" He stands straighter, bringing a hand behind his head with uncertainty. He swallows.

"Who should I tell her is here, if she is here?"

"James...James Truitt. She's my girlfriend. Is she here? I'd really like to see her."

"Maybe, hold on a minute." Jack closes the door before turning, seeing a terrified look to his daughter's face, "Who is that?"

"I don't think-" Quinn begins, glassy eyes set on her father's concerned face. She slides her trembling hands into her silk pajama pants pockets, "Is it..."

"Wait a minute." Sharon's low, monotonous voice nearly growls from behind her daughter, "Is this the one from the-"

"Yes, mother." She swallows.

"The hell is going on here?" Jack glances between them, "I feel like there are some secrets between the two of you that I am not privy to...not that I expect to be, don't get me wrong. However, I feel like this is now a safety issue. The young man outside knows you, yes? Is he the father of-"

Sharon makes eye contact with her husband, the look telling a thousand stories alone.

Quinn looks toward the floor, "I'd like to see him please."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to. In fact, I don't have to go back to that door. I don't have to open it again if you don't want me to." Jack moves closer to his daughter, standing in front of her without touching her, "This is about you and no one else. No matter what your mother or I say about this guy, or think we know about this guy, we don't know him."

"That may be true, but I do know that the bruises I witnessed all over our daughter's body, particularly his arm, and the reaction she is having to his presence, without him even being in the same room, is more than enough for me to base my judgement." Sharon gently places a hand on her daughter's shoulder, "Honey, we will send him away. You do not have to see him simply because he is here."

"I have to see him sooner or later." Quinn shakes her head.

Jack puts a hand up, signaling the women to his presence still in the conversation, "It is Christmas morning. How about I ask him to come at another time?"

"How about ten years?" The older woman mumbles.

"Wait, I can ask him to come back tomorrow so that the two of you can talk. That is, only if you want to see him."

The Raydor daughter listens to the arguments of her parents, unsure. "He isn't going to leave unless I talk to him. I know him." Her soft voice causes tears to form in her mother's eyes. She moves toward the door, placing a hand on the knob.

Jack places a hand against the door, "Do not invite him in. Speak to him in the hallway."

"Why? We need privacy, and-"

"You aren't going to get that in here. Also, if he touches you or the conversation gets heated, there are cameras. No audio, but video that can be used during trial if we need it to be." He looks her in the eye, "I am not moving from right here, if you can't open the door, or he blocks you, yell for me or hit the door twice if you can. Got it?" When she nods, he opens it for her, "Turns out she is here." He grumbles, giving the man a look before letting his daughter through, closing the door behind himself.

Sharon turns, leaning her back against the door frame of her foster son's bedroom. She leans her head back, looking to the ceiling, "Why did you let her go out there? Why did you make her-"

"She's like you, Sharon. It doesn't matter what either of her parents say, she is still going to do whatever the hell she wants to do." He listens intently through the door, "She is strong as hell. She can fight her own battles. She's like you."

Moments pass before Sharon finally speaks, "I couldn't protect her, Jack."

The older man glances over, still listening to his daughter in the hallway, "What?" He whispers to her, only half paying attention to his wife.

It was probably better he didn't hear her. She didn't particularly like displaying weakness, particularly in front of her estranged husband, "Nothing." She almost whispers.

He steps aside when he hears banging at the door, opening it, his daughter and the young man from before almost tumble through, lips locked.

"You have got to be kidding me." Sharon sees them, shaking her head.

James keeps an arm around the young woman, steadying her, "You alright?"

"Fine." Quinn smiles, glancing to her parents, "Jamie, these are my parents...Jack and Sharon Raydor."

Sharon makes eye contact with the young man, "I'll be getting Rusty up...then cleaning my gun." She doesn't move, standing her ground.

"Cleaning your gun? The hell is that supposed to mean?" James immediately becomes defensive, "Because I'm black?"

Quinn notices his immediate response to her mother's statement, "She's a cop." She places a hand on his chest to keep him at ease.

"Going to hit me too?" Sharon continues.

"Alright, stop. Everyone knock it the hell off." Jack shakes his head, "Who are you?"

"James Truitt." The young man nods.

"What is your relationship to my daughter?" The older man keeps his tone neutral.

"She's having my kids." James folds his arms.

Quinn stands next to him, but looks away, "Maybe...maybe you should go."

"Didn't know your parents were a bunch of bigots."

Rusty hears all the commotion in the hallway and peeks out by placing his head over his foster mother's shoulder, "What's going on?"

"My parents aren't bigots." Quinn says softly, standing next to him.

"Yeah?" James looks down to the young woman next to him, "Then what are they?"

"Try protective." Jack answers for her, "I think it would be best if you leave."

He chuckles from the back of his throat, "You're going to have to choose, Quinn, which family means more to you." He walks toward the door, "I drove all the way here and-"

"Anyone who introduces a woman as their kids' mother before saying their girlfriend...or this person I love, if they are supposed to be together...only see the woman as an object." Sharon continues to stare at the man, "It has nothing to do with your skin color, or how you were raised...actually, it might. There was never a day where my sons thought it was okay to put their hand on a woman in a menacing there never will be."

"Are you insulting my mother now?" James raises an eyebrow.

"Shit, can't a guy sleep?" Sam yells from the sofa in the living room.

"Jamie, I'll see you when I get back home." Quinn tries to make the man look to her, but is instead pushed aside when the man starts to walk toward her mother.

"No one insults my mother." The young man continues.

"And no one insults my daughter." Sharon continues to stare him down.

"I'm calling Provenza...or Flynn." Rusty moves from her to get his cell phone.

"I don't hit anyone who doesn't deserve it, Mrs. Raydor." He shakes his head.

"That's Captain Raydor to you. I am well within my rights to place you under arrest. However, since it is Christmas, I am in the giving mood. This is your last chance. You've been given multiple warnings to leave and yet, you have ignored them all." Sharon folds her arms, "I ask you, for the last time, please leave."

James stands in front of her, slowly glancing to everyone else. "Merry Christmas." He glares, finally turning and leaving with a slam of the door.

"Why did you do that?" Quinn folds her arms, closing her eyes, "Why did you do that?"

"I will not apologize for what just happened." The monotonous tone of Sharon's voice returns. She steps to the other side of the area where they are standing, reaching to touch her daughter, "Are you okay?"

"Don't." She pulls away from her, "Dad...could you..." She glances toward the man, eyes pooling with tears, "Could you maybe make some breakfast?"

Jack watches his daughter a few moments before nodding with an answer, "Whatever you want, baby."

"Pancakes...can you make me pancakes?" The young woman almost seems lost as she speaks.

"Absolutely." He swallows, watching his daughter.

"I'm going to go lie down." She nods, then pauses before going into the room, she turns around, looking to them, "Merry Christmas." The young woman gives a smile before walking into her mother's room.

Rusty smiles to Sharon, "I can help with breakfast."

Sharon gives him a forced smile, "It's Christmas. Your first in this family."

"Yeah, I know, but I want to do something too." He nods.

She purses her lips, keeping her emotions at bay with wide eyes. He knows this look, he knows she's having a hard time controlling herself, "Whatever you'd like to do, Rusty. This holiday is about you." She begins to rub her thumb over the tips of her other fingers before folding her arms.

"So, I can do whatever I want, today?" Rusty continues to study her for as long as she lets him, slowly smirking.

"Within reason, of course, but...yes, whatever you would like." Sharon nods.

"Fine, you let me take breakfast to Quinn after Jack and I make it." He folds his arms.

"What is with this interest in my daughter?" Sharon shakes her head, looking to him.

The young man looks her in the eyes, slightly hurt, but knowing she didn't mean it the way it came out of her mouth, "I have interest in everyone...she's the only one I've barely talked to. If you'd rather I didn't talk to her, that's fine."

Jack watches everyone as they move about the condo, "Breakfast it is." He calls out, interrupting everyone as he passes, walking toward the kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

The condo remains eerily silent for five people occupying it. Sam groans as he gets off of sofa, looking around. "You making breakfast?" He looks to his father, walking to the kitchen. He was small when his parents split. His sister wasn't much older than him, but she usually tried to protect him. Until he became larger and more muscular and the dynamics seemed to change.

Jack glances over his shoulder, "Yeah, eggs...maybe some turkey bacon and sausage. Don't know yet. Your sister wants pancakes. Want some of those?"

Sam can sense the tension, glancing to Rusty to see if he can tell anything about the situation from the young man.

Rusty shakes his head a little before looking to Jack, "You should let me help. I make breakfast all the time here."

The older man shakes his head, "I said I got it."

"Dad, just let Rusty help." Sam waves his hand, motioning to the youngest of the three, "You look like shit. What happened?"

Jack shakes his head, "After I make Quinn's pancakes, I'm going for a walk. You'll be able to man the stoves, Rusty?"

"Yes, Sir." The teenager replies quietly, knowing the elder's mind is elsewhere, "I cook breakfast most mornings when Sharon has been away at a crime scene the night before." Rusty shrugs, "I figure it's a nice thing to do."

Sam smirks, "It is." He folds his arms, "Where is Mom?"

"In my room." Rusty nods.

"Alright." He nods slowly, "I'll help you out, Rusty."

"Don't really need you to, but thanks." The teenager smiles a little to him, "And hey, sorry I acted like I did last night. I don't really remember any of it, but...I mean, I woke up with Sharon stroking my hair, so I'm thinking it didn't go well."

"Yeah, really it was my fault. I pressured you and I shouldn't have. That's what bullies are made of." Sam nods, watching his father's movements, "Dad, you sure you want to take a walk? We'll be opening presents soon, I bet."

"I know damn well there isn't anything under the tree for me." Jack quickly snaps, then instantly feels terrible about it, "Your sister needs us today. Who gives a damn about presents?"

"It's Rusty's first holiday with this family. I give a damn about presents. So does Mom and whether or not she comes out of her room, so does Quinn." Sam watches his family, "No, you're really good at leaving though, aren't you. You're good at just up and going and not even saying goodbye to anyone."

Rusty doesn't know whether or not to say anything. He places the empty dish he was holding on the counter and jogs toward his room to get his foster mother.

"I had a problem, yeah, I admit that. You kids going to hold it over my head for the rest of my life?" Jack shakes his head, "Merry fucking Christmas." He slams the pan onto the stove, scalding batter leaps up and catches against his hand, "Shit."

"You don't give us much of a chance, do you?" Sam shakes his head, "Can't tell you how many nights Mom cried herself to sleep. She'd take a glass of wine into her room and lock the door. We could hear her sobs through the wall. So, you didn't just hurt us by leaving, you hurt her. You kept her chained for what..." He continues, moving toward the man, "Because you couldn't pay fucking child support? She would have never asked for it."

"That will be enough." Sharon says loudly from behind both of the Raydor men, eliciting immediate silence from the two of them. Her hands balled into fists and resting on her hips, "We have had quite enough fighting in this household for one day and it is not even lunchtime yet." She swallows, "I asked for one thing of all of you, to behave. I should have known that you wouldn't keep your ends of the bargain. Never do." She turns, seeing Rusty sitting on the sofa. She sits next to him, "I'm sorry." She whispers.

Rusty shakes his head, "For what?" He slowly glances up at her.

"For this...for everything." She raises the corner of her mouth, "I wanted this to be a great holiday for you. I wanted you to remember this for the rest of your life-"

"Sharon-"

"As something that actually meant something. Instead, it's going to be one of the worst." Sharon shakes her head slowly.

"Growing up, with my mother, I never really felt like I belonged. I...I was usually taking care of her or hiding somewhere in the apartment from whatever boyfriend she decided to bring over. I never had birthdays or Christmases. I was lucky if we ate from day to day." Rusty looks her in the eye, "Sharon, this is the greatest holiday I've ever had in my entire life."

She tilts her head to the side, listening intently. It wasn't often that he spoke of his time with the other Sharon in his life. "Rusty, First thing in the morning of dealing with my daughter's abusive boyfriend, having her lock herself in my bedroom, then an argument by my son and estranged husband in the kitchen...how could it possibly be the greatest anything?"

"Because I get to spend it with you." He smiles a little at how corny it sounds, "No one ever included me in anything...ever." Rusty shrugs, "Even if it was getting in trouble with Sam or listening to Quinn argue with you...I still get to spend the holiday with people who actually make me feel like I belong here."

Sharon brings her hand to her mouth, resting the side of her knuckle against her top lip for a moment before reaching out and pulling him close to her, "Because you are a part of this family, Rusty. This scattered, loving, fucked up family."

Rusty begins to laugh against her, wrapping his arms around her in return. "Harsh words." He laughs harder before looking up at her.

"I think I deserve it." She smirks, kissing his temple before getting up, "I'd actually like to change into something a little more decent, but since my lovely daughter has barricaded herself-"

"I'll go talk to her." The teenager stands.

"Rusty, I do not believe that is a good idea."

"I didn't do anything to her. Technically, I'm a neutral party." Rusty walks back to the kitchen, patting Jack on the back when the man nods that the pancakes were finished. He pulls out the lap tray that he bought to take Sharon breakfast on mother's day, setting it up with the young woman's breakfast. "I'll be back."

Sharon takes a deep breath, looking at the two in the kitchen again. She looks away, shaking her head before walking away from them once more.

Rusty picks the lock to Sharon's room. He used to do it all the time when he lived with his mother. One of them would always lose their key. It's what led to him tying it onto his book bag. He opens the door slowly, seeing the young woman on the bed.

Quinn stares at the wall, lying on her side, shirt pulled up to rest under her chest. She absently strokes her swollen belly, attempting to find comfort through the situation. "Detective picks lock to open door. Sounds like a news headline."

"It would if a detective did it." He kicks the door closed behind him, "Hungry?"

"Maybe...is it pancakes?" She knows they are, she can smell the vanilla her father slips into the batter as well as the small container of syrup.

"Nope, pot roast." Rusty smirks, watching her as she edges her shirt down and slowly sits up, propped up by the ridiculous amount of pillows at the head of the bed.

Though her face appears more blank than anything, she manages a soft smirk, "Bet you think I'm some kind of idiot."

He sets the table on top of her lap, "Why would I think that?"

"Locking myself in here, getting angry with my parents for chasing off my boyfriend, considering staying with my boyfriend." Quinn continues before looking at him, motioning for him to sit at the foot of the bed, "Maybe those things."

"It's your life." Rusty slowly sits, wary about being in Sharon's room more or less on her bed, "Sharon always says we have to make mistakes. Your life is no different."

"So, you think this is all a mistake?"

He shakes his head, "No. I've seen this before. This is something you gotta learn from."

"With your mother?" She pushes herself up more, sighing when her belly keeps the tray table from being at a comfortable distance for her to eat.

Rusty nods slowly, "Yeah."

"What happened?"

He huffs a laugh, "You really want to know?"

"You brought it up. If it's too hard to talk about, that's fine." Quinn nods, cutting her stack pancakes before drenching them in organic maple syrup.

Rusty shrugs, "She had a bunch of different boyfriends when I was growing up, but when I turned about...thirteen, one seemed to stick. He loved having control. Got her addicted to all sorts of things. He'd beat her up if she did something he didn't like and he beat me up all the time for the hell of it. She'd sit back and try to convince me to call him my father."

She looks up at him, "What did she do about it?"

He shakes his head, "Nothing. Still with him. They dropped me off at a zoo when I was fifteen and drove off. I hiked it back to the apartment when I figured they weren't coming back to pick me up. All the essentials were gone. No note...no nothing. I lived there as long as they let me because I wasn't bringing money in, you know? Not yet at that time anyway."

Quinn watches him, "He hit you a lot?"

"Yeah until I hit back. Then I got dropped off." Rusty folds his arms, "Don't think that just because he says he'll change or that he won't hit your kid, he's telling the truth."

"I love him a lot. When he's happy, he's the greatest guy ever." She shakes her head slowly, "When he's angry...watch out." The young woman smiles sadly, "Want my bacon?"

He nods, taking the piece from her tray and crunching into it, "I've learned some things since I've moved here. Lots of things actually. One of the most important, though, is that love doesn't hurt. It should never hurt." Rusty smiles to her, "You're really pretty and I'm betting your kid is going to be like...the cutest thing ever."

"Kids. There's two."

"Well, damn. Grandma Sharon will really be harassed now." He grins more.

Quinn giggles, "I don't know if I can do it alone. With one, maybe, but with two...I just don't know."

"You should know better than that." Rusty nods, standing, "You'll never be alone. Not while I'm around and I know Sharon and Jack would always help. Maybe you should move closer. Are you able to?"

She nods, "Yeah. I work for a small PR firm. They're actually opening new offices not too far from here. I could get an apartment closer. I could work from home, if I wanted to." Quinn smirks, looking to the young man, "Thanks, Rusty. You're actually a really great little brother."

"Thanks." He nods, smiling, "Want me to take your tray? Maybe go sit out there for a while? Open presents?" Rusty watches her, raising a hopeful eyebrow, "I hear Santa's been here according to your mom."

"She always says that. Sam and I always mock her for it, but I think she secretly loves every second of it." Quinn nods, "Help me up?"

Rusty walks around to her side of the bed, "Did you like... grow overnight?" He takes her hands as he gently helps the her stand before picking up the now empty tray.

The young woman playfully hits him on the arm before walking around to the door to open it for him.

Sharon smiles when she sees her foster son exit the room with her daughter, "Okay, Sam and Jack, are you almost finished eating?"

Sam sighs, sitting back, "I just sat down!"

Jack looks up at her, "Come eat, Sharon. Gifts can wait, little girl." He teases her slightly, smirking as he bites down on a piece of toast.

"I haven't eaten yet either." Rusty rounds the corner, placing the dirty plates into the sink, "Is there no more bacon?"

"Over here." Sam calls, motioning to the plate on the table.

Sharon rolls her eyes before glancing over to her daughter and gently placing a hand on her back.

Quinn smiles to her, folding her arms, "Go ahead and eat. I'd like another cup of coffee anyway."

"You aren't supposed to drink coffee." She shakes her head.

"Dad made decaf for me. Said not to tell anyone." She nods, "Don't tell Sam at least. You know how he gets."

Sam picks his head up, hearing the last part of the conversation, "How I get about what?"

"Nothing, honey." Sharon smirks, taking a seat at the table next to Rusty.

Jack picks his head up from his plate and looks around at the family he and his wife formed all those years ago and the additions made to it from external sources. He makes eye contact with Sharon and smiles. Each of them knowing exactly what the other is thinking.

This would be a good Christmas after all.


End file.
